<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Earth by driftingskies237</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24665746">Earth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/driftingskies237/pseuds/driftingskies237'>driftingskies237</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Elements [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Flirting, Canon Era, Ealdor, Fluff, Gen, King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Matchmaker Hunith, Mentions of Will - Freeform, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), Oblivious Arthur, Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), POV Merlin (Merlin), Pining, Pre-Slash, Slow Burn, Takes Place After Uther's Death, Teasing, mentions of Uther Pendragon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:09:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,947</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24665746</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/driftingskies237/pseuds/driftingskies237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Overwhelmed by the continued weight of his destiny, Merlin decides to take a trip to Ealdor just in time for Harvest Festival. Arthur, still dealing with his new duties as king and the death of his father, tags along.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Elements [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>289</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Earth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the first part of my four part one shots series 'Elements'! Next up will be Air :) I hope you enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The summer days have finally dwindled, with cool breezes now drifting in and leaves transitioning from bright green to sunset orange. Final crops are being harvested around Camelot and its villages. Peasants haul cartfuls of fresh fruits and vegetables, straight from the fields. Camelot’s streets are abuzz with pop-up markets, and people swarm to them like flies.</p><p>Not only does autumn signify harvest, but it also means something else entirely to Merlin. Merlin can feel the shift in his magic as autumn drifts in, a comforting breeze that feels like home. He feels life of all kinds at their full potential. The thrum of plants ready to be picked. Baby animals that have grown enough to be off on their own. The happy whispers of the trees in the sky. This feeling, Merlin has come to realize, is nearly impossible to describe, even to those with magic. Because while others may possess magic, some even having been born with it, none are more connected with magic and the earth themselves than Emrys.</p><p>Autumn is also the time that Merlin’s magic feels like it’s reached an endless peak. Much like life reacts to the change in seasons, Merlin’s magic also responds. After a hot, grueling summer, the refreshing temperatures bring new energy to him. In fact, Merlin has come to realize over the years that holding his magic in during autumn is sometimes an overwhelming feat. Like the food ready to be picked, his magic wants to be released back into the earth. It bubbles underneath his skin with excitement. Somedays, Merlin finds himself wandering out into the woods, away from where anyone could see him, and just lets it all go. The earth welcomes him back like an old friend. Blue butterflies swarm around him, and wind gently shakes the trees, rousing the birds. All the while, Merlin’s eyes glow bright and golden like the leaves around him.</p><p>This year, things have been changing faster than ever. With Arthur officially stepping into his role as King of Camelot, Merlin’s destiny has been weighing on him greater and greater with each passing day. Since the death of Uther, there’s been a dark shadow cast over both Merlin and Arthur, each for a different reason. For Arthur, it’s a deep sadness and frustration caused by the loss of his father, as well as the pressures put on him to rule the kingdom all the while. Merlin, on the other hand, is still dealing with the guilt of causing Uther’s death while trying to save him with magic. Now, with Arthur’s hatred for magic seeming to be at an all-time high, Merlin fears that their destinies will never come to pass and that Arthur might never forgive Merlin for all that he’s done (not that Merlin believes he deserves forgiveness). Both of them experience a constant clashing of emotions, leading to rapidly changing highs and lows.</p><p>As things slowly go back to normal (or, as normal as they can be), it still feels like they’re walking on eggshells. Though the pair are closer than ever, they are also withdrawing from each other. The disconnect between them bothers Merlin, though he’d never admit that to Arthur. As annoying and big-headed as Arthur can be, Merlin has always felt this tug toward him. At first, he figured it was just a destiny thing since he and Arthur are apparently “two sides of the same coin,” but as time went on, Merlin realized it’s more than that. That his magic and his being as a whole yearn to be close to Arthur. And it tears him apart when Arthur keeps his distance, sending him off coldly. The knights tell Merlin that he shouldn’t take it personally, but why shouldn’t he? After all, he caused the death of Arthur’s father. Maybe, this is payback for what Merlin did. Maybe the universe is punishing him.</p><p>Merlin hasn’t felt so low in quite some time, especially today. As he wakes up, only a few days into the beginning of harvest time, not even the warmth and familiar comfort of autumn to his magic can lift his spirits. His body works without him thinking as he gets up and dressed. When he clambers down the stairs that morning, Gaius peers at him with a calculating, yet concerned, stare. If anyone has noticed the change in Merlin’s mood recently, it’s been Gaius. Although he tries not to let it show, Gaius somehow always seems to know.</p><p>“Good morning, Merlin,” Gaius greets, standing up on wobbly knees. “I made breakfast, and it’s still hot.”</p><p>Knowing Gaius will reprimand him more if he refuses, Merlin smiles at sits down. Gaius places a full, steaming bowl of porridge in front of him. “Thanks, Gaius. You didn’t have to do that.”</p><p>“Well, someone has to watch out for you, my boy. It’s no trouble.”</p><p>Merlin hums, spooning food into his mouth quickly. He doesn’t want to be late-waking Arthur up, especially since Arthur has been particularly cranky and snappy toward everyone recently, including Merlin. Just as Merlin is shoveling the last bit of breakfast down his throat, Gaius makes a sudden noise and grabs a piece of folded parchment from his cluttered desk.</p><p>“I almost forgot! A letter was delivered from Ealdor yesterday, but I never got a chance to give it to you.”</p><p>A genuine, large smile spreads across Merlin’s face, and he eagerly takes the letter from Gaius’s hands. Merlin opens the parchment, and a sense of longing blossoms in his chest as he sees his mother’s familiar scrawl.</p><p>
  <em> My dearest Merlin, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I think of you the most this time of year. Autumn was always your favorite season, even as a babe. I know things have been hard these days for you. I wish nothing more than being there in person to comfort you, but as you know I cannot dare to leave the village at a time like this. There remains much uncertainty and unrest here since the death of Uther, but I know in my heart Arthur will become a great and wise King.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Harvest Festival approaches quickly. The crops have been bountiful this year, and the whole village looks forward to having something to celebrate. I hope that Camelot is faring well, but because it is under your protection, I am sure it is. Please, continue to be wary. As you know, even though Uther is gone, many threats to you and Arthur remain.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I do hope you can visit soon, Merlin, as I miss you very much. But do not stray from your duties just for me. Until then, I will be wishing for your safety and health.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Please, send Arthur my regards and condolences for his father. Watch his back, Merlin, now especially, although I am sure I do not have to tell you that.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All of my love, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mother </em>
</p><p>The parchment crumples under Merlin’s searing grip and shaking hands. He strokes a finger over her name. Merlin hadn’t realized how much he misses his mother until now. He misses Ealdor. Although it’s just a simple little village in Essetir, it’s where he grew up. He has bad memories there, of course, as kids and adults alike were cruel, but some of his fondest memories also spawn from there. Memories of sneaking out and splashing in the freezing river with Will at night. Smelling his mother’s cooking in the mornings and hearing her sing a tune under her breath. The beautiful woods just outside of Ealdor, where Merlin felt at peace. And Harvest Festival, a celebration of the end of the growing season, always filled Merlin with joy. There’s nothing in Camelot like Harvest Festival in Ealdor. In Ealdor, Harvest Festival is a huge feast of freshly grown food. The whole village gathers for a night of food, thanks, and dancing. It’s one day of the year where everything feels like it will be okay.</p><p>“You best hurry along,” Gaius reminds Merlin, bringing him out of his musings.</p><p>“Yeah, of course…” Merlin trails off. He takes the letter, folding it back along the creases. He tucks it safely in his room to look at again later. With on last thoughtful look at it, Merlin makes up his mind. He can’t dwell on it too long, though, and hurries out of the Physician’s chambers a few seconds later toward the kitchens to grab Arthur’s breakfast.</p><p>Of course, Arthur is still asleep when Merlin makes his way into his chambers with breakfast. Although Merlin can’t deny he likes to annoy Arthur by waking him, he recently feels a little bad about it because Arthur always seems so exhausted. Not to mention, when Arthur sleeps, he finally looks somewhat relaxed compared to his usual tenseness. Only a little bit bad, though, because Arthur is a prat.</p><p>“Rise and shine!” Merlin singsongs, plastering on a wide grin. Even though Merlin’s mood may not be a good one, he tries to put up a front for Arthur, especially Arthur, because he needs all the support he can get. Plus, being around Arthur does put him in a better mood, somehow.</p><p>Arthur grumbles, snuffling deeper under the soft blankets. “Urg.”</p><p>“Very eloquent. Should I put that in your speech for the council today?” A subtle reminder of what Arthur needs to do.</p><p>A pillow flies at him, but Merlin dodges expertly. “If you wanted to have a pillow fight, all you had to do was ask.”</p><p>Arthur glares at him from his half sitting position. “I do not want to have a pillow fight! Remind me again why I put up with you?”</p><p>“Because no one else could put up with your prattishness.”</p><p>Arthur rolls his eyes, and a hint of a smile plays at his lips. Merlin smiles more at the sight.</p><p>“Better eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”</p><p>“It looks like you’ve already started for me,” Arthur comments haughtily, gesturing to the grape Merlin plops into his mouth.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sire.”</p><p>Arthur sighs, biting into one sausage. All is quiet as Arthur eats. Merlin wants nothing more than to sit down beside Arthur and talk to him, about anything. To comfort him. But he knows that Arthur would certainly block him out, and Merlin doesn’t want that to happen; instead, Merlin busies himself by picking out Arthur’s outfit for the day, a Camelot red tunic and dark, slim trousers. He absentmindedly runs a hand across the soft fabrics, finding himself thinking about how Arthur looks in each one. He shakes himself quickly of those thoughts, though, slamming the wardrobe door and startling Arthur enough that he drops a piece of food.</p><p>“Merlin!”</p><p>“Sorry, sire.”</p><p>Things go quiet again. Once Arthur finishes breakfast, Merlin helps him dress. As he’s pulling the shirt over Arthur’s head, he finds himself speaking.</p><p>“Arthur, I need to tell you something.”</p><p>Arthur looks toward him in interest. It’s quite a funny sight, seeing Arthur’s head pop out through the top of his shirt, hair rumpled even more. Merlin holds back any sassy remarks, though, not wanting to get on Arthur’s bad side before he tells him.</p><p>Merlin pauses a beat before continuing. “I’m going to visit Ealdor for a bit, and I’m leaving tomorrow.”</p><p>“Is your mother not well?” Arthur asks, a hint of worry lacing his voice. Merlin knows that Arthur took to his mother when he first met her, especially because he never met his mother. That, and with the recent death of his father, the shake in his voice is understandable.</p><p>“No, no, she’s well,” Merlin reassures him. “I just…I haven’t seen her in <em> so </em> long, and I got a letter from her just today, and she talked about the village and Harvest Festival, and it made me homesick.”</p><p>“I understand, Merlin,” Arthur responds in a sincere tone. “You may go.”</p><p>Merlin breathes a sigh of relief, then smiles as he continues mirthfully, “You know, I wasn’t asking for your permission. I would have gone regardless.”</p><p>“You would defy your King’s orders?” Arthur teases back.</p><p>“I’ve built up a reputation of specifically <em> not  </em>following your orders. I can’t back out now.”</p><p>And Arthur <strong> <em> laughs </em> </strong>, a full-throated laugh that Merlin hasn’t heard in a long time. It makes him dare to hope that maybe, just maybe, things are getting better.</p><p>Before Merlin forgets, he tells Arthur, “Oh, by the way, my mother mentioned you in her letter. She says she sends her regards and condolences to you.”</p><p>Arthur appears stunned.</p><p>“I just thought you’d want to know.”</p><p>Arthur settles again, letting a trace of a smile spread on his lips.</p><p>The remainder of the day persists with Merlin in brighter spirits than usual because he’ll be seeing his mother in less than two days. As much as Merlin has come to consider Camelot as his home, there’s nothing like seeing his mother again. Sometimes, he selfishly wishes that she would come to live in Camelot with them. He’s asked her about it a few times, only to be politely rejected each time. Ealdor is her home, more than Camelot ever will be. She belongs there, even if Merlin did not. Additionally, Merlin knows that logically, Camelot would be much more dangerous for her, what with all the people that seem to be attracted there to kill Arthur. This current arrangement is best for both of them, but it does nothing to mend the ache in Merlin’s heart that yearns for her.</p><p>Merlin informs Gaius of his journey, of course. Gaius, being the overprotective guardian, warns Merlin to be careful. He also shoves a medicine bag in Merlin’s arms, filled to the brim with potions, salves, and bandages of all sorts. According to Gaius, it’s “just in case.” Merlin decides against protesting, even though he wants to, mostly because he does tend to get into trouble despite not looking for it.</p><p>He hardly sleeps that night, too stuck with memories of childhood. He dreams of Will, mostly. It feels like Ealdor is missing a piece of itself with Will gone. Things have changed much since Will’s death, but Will always has a special place in Merlin’s heart. Besides for memories of childhood, worries about the state of his mother and the village plague Merlin’s thoughts. Although his mother’s letter assured them everything was fine, Merlin can’t help but worry something could happen to the little village at any time. The guilt from not thinking of his birthplace also manifests. Overall, it leads to a fitful night’s rest.</p><p>The next morning, he wakes early, eager to get a good start. He packs the saddlebags on his usual mare in the stables, slipping her an apple and patting her nose. Just as he’s getting ready to mount, though, he hears a voice behind him.</p><p>“Aren’t you forgetting something?”</p><p>Merlin turns, confused, to see Arthur all dressed in his typical chainmail.</p><p>“How did you manage to get yourself up so early?” Merlin wonders. “And dressed!”</p><p>“I can get myself dressed when needed, Merlin.”</p><p>Merlin considers this. “George helped you, didn’t he?”</p><p>“I—” Arthur gapes, “No, he—that isn’t the point, idiot!”</p><p>“I don’t think I’m forgetting anything,” Merlin replies, finally responding to Arthur’s question. “I think Gaius packed the whole Physician’s chambers in this medicine bag.”</p><p>“You forgot to pack up my horse, obviously! Do you just expect me to do that myself?”</p><p>It finally clicks. Merlin shakes his head at Arthur, stammering as he tries to find words. “Arthur—you don’t need to come with me. I can make it to Ealdor myself perfectly fine. Besides, don’t you have a kingdom to run?”</p><p>Apparently, that’s the wrong thing to say, because Arthur’s face darkens. He clears his throat before speaking, “Well, it’s not as if the kingdom will collapse if I’m gone on a quest for a bit. And someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself into any trouble.”</p><p>Merlin knows Arthur well enough to know that he’s just making excuses now. He looks at Arthur, really looks at him, and sees the dark bags hanging under his eyes, the haggard expression on his face, and the clenching of his fingers into the edges of his chainmail. Merlin gets it. Arthur <em> needs  </em>this break, just like Merlin does.</p><p>“I suppose I wouldn’t mind having an extra pair of hands to carry all of this,” Merlin muses, already expecting Arthur’s sharp retort.</p><p>“Well, tough luck! You are still my servant, <em> Mer </em> lin, which means you are in charge of carrying  <em> everything </em>.”</p><p>With that, Arthur drops a bag of his stuff into Merlin’s arms. Merlin falters a bit under the weight, wondering what Arthur could have possibly packed to make his bag so full and heavy. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised at this point to open it up and find a bunch of rocks.</p><p>Merlin grumbles, much to Arthur’s obvious bemusement. He attaches the bags to Arthur’s mare, a beautiful, white horse with a feisty temperament. Despite Arthur’s comment, he goes to help Merlin out a bit, muttering about “incompetent manservants,” as he heaves another saddlebag onto his horse. Merlin smiles secretly to himself.</p><p>The journey is relatively quiet at first. They head out of Camelot and into the forest, life teeming around them. Merlin closes his eyes and relishes the feeling of the earth. His magic is in tune with everything around them. He hears the trickling of a brook ahead. He feels the soil beneath the horses’ hooves, still damp from a late-night rainfall. He senses some deer through the trees, one doe with her growing fawn. He definitely won’t alert Arthur to that.</p><p>And the thing is, Arthur seems just as in tune with nature, albeit in his own way. Finally away from the prying eyes of the city, he relaxes, grip easy on the reigns of his mare. He rides steady and confident, but not with any urgency. Their horses trot along, side by side. Merlin realizes how long it’s been since the two of them have been out riding together recently, not for any type of danger or quest. Arthur hasn’t even had much time to go hunting while in Camelot, or at least he hasn’t asked Merlin to come. Not to mention, anytime they go anywhere together, the knights usually come along. Of course, Merlin adores the knights, as they treat him like a friend. Still, being alone with Arthur makes Merlin reminisce on their first years together. It sprouts happiness inside him.</p><p>“You aren’t prattling on like usual, today,” Arthur says a bit later.</p><p>“If you missed my voice, all you had to do was ask.”</p><p>“Actually, just the opposite. I was just amazed that we had some peace and quiet for once.”</p><p>“Well, we did, until you ruined it,” Merlin mentions, earning him a shove on the shoulder from Arthur.  </p><p>“So what were you thinking about, anyway?”</p><p>Merlin briefly considers lying, but he already lies too much to Arthur. The worst part is that Arthur makes him want to spill his guts. There’s just something about him that makes Merlin feel like he should divulge his deepest secrets, but he can’t. As much as he wishes he could just tell Arthur everything, he can’t. Once Uther died, Merlin did consider it. But then Arthur proclaimed a new hatred against magic, and Merlin got scared. Not to mention, Arthur was still mourning his father at that time as well as adjusting to his new duties. Now, even though things have settled down, they are far from okay again. Merlin doesn’t want to go to the pyre, but most of all, he doesn’t want to hurt Arthur more than he has to.</p><p>“Just…it’s nice, isn’t it? The forest in the autumn. It’s so peaceful and relaxing. While I’m out here, I feel…”</p><p>“Free,” Arthur finishes, looking around the landscape.</p><p>“Yeah. <em> Free. </em>”</p><hr/><p>Merlin holds his breath as they take the last stretch toward Ealdor. He’s jittery, squirming on his horse as if to urge her faster. Arthur picks up on this, sending an exasperated look toward Merlin.</p><p>“Calm down, Merlin, we’re almost there,” Arthur says.</p><p>Merlin rolls his eyes. “I know that, clotpole. Also, I’m surprised you didn’t comment on my ‘little bottom’ being sore, again, as you were so interested that one time.”</p><p>And Arthur actually blushes. Merlin laughs, causing Arthur’s face to just get more of an angry red.</p><p>Arthur attempts to splutter out a response, “Y-You—you are <em> such— </em>!”</p><p>Merlin grins, “Oh look, we’re here!”</p><p>Ealdor comes into view. It looks just about as Merlin remembers it in the autumn. Crops all around, ready to be harvested. Villagers toting shovels and carts and baskets as they prepare. Animals grazing about. The quiet chatter of a small town.</p><p>Merlin spots his mother right away. She’s out in her garden, working. It looks as beautiful as ever, with plenty of fresh vegetables and flowers growing alongside them. She’s down on her knees, plucking off a fresh tomato and plopping it into a basket when she spots them. Immediately, she springs up, grinning as she meets them the rest of the short distance. As soon as she starts toward them, Merlin clambers off his horse in excitement. Arthur watches, then dismounts himself, as well.</p><p>Merlin beams, rushing toward his mother. When they finally embrace, Merlin practically collapses into her arms, squeezing her tight.</p><p>“My sweet boy,” Hunith gasps, pulling back to cradle his head in her hands. She looks him over as if assessing him. “I missed you so much!”</p><p>“I missed you too, mother,” Merlin replies, smiling as he looks into his mother’s kind eyes.</p><p>“I didn’t know you were coming to visit.”</p><p>“Well, it was kind of a spur of the moment thing. I read your letter, and I realized I haven’t seen you in such a <em> long </em> time, plus Harvest Festival is coming up, and, I felt…”</p><p>His mother places a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “Don’t fret about it Merlin, truly. I know you’ve been busy. We all have. But it doesn’t matter, because you’re here now.”</p><p>“Don’t forget about the royal prat,” Merlin says, voice loud enough to reach Arthur, lingering a horse width behind them.</p><p>“Oh, Merlin! Do you always have to insult poor Arthur?”</p><p>Arthur cackles, taking a few steps forward and nudging at Merlin’s shoulder. “Yeah, Merlin, do you always have to insult me?”</p><p>“Well, if you weren’t such a prat, I wouldn’t,” Merlin mutters under his breath, intended for only Arthur to hear.</p><p>Merlin’s mother smiles warmly at Arthur and greets him. “Hello, Your Majesty.”</p><p>“Please, Hunith, there’s no need; call me Arthur.”</p><p>“Of course, Arthur,” she responds, looking him over in a similar fashion to Merlin. “You’ve grown so much since I’ve last seen you. You look like a rightful leader.”</p><p>“Thank you. And thank you for sending your regards in your letter to Merlin. It means a lot that you thought of me.”</p><p>“Well, with the amount Merlin rambles on about you in his letters, it’s hard not to,” she jokes.</p><p>Arthur catches Merlin’s eyes, who tries to play oblivious to the conversation, but it’s too late. “You <em> ramble on </em> about me, huh Merlin?”</p><p>Merlin stammers, “Only about the constant chores you give me, dollophead!” Although that’s partially true, Merlin also talks a lot about Arthur’s growth. He’s also told his mom about a few of their adventures (although skipping the more dangerous parts because he doesn’t want to worry her). In fact, he probably mentions in almost all of his letters. He’ll never admit that to Arthur, though.</p><p>After dropping their horses off to rest in the stables, they’re led to Merlin’s childhood home. The door creaks loudly as it opens. The inside of the house is almost just like before. </p><p>Merlin puts down his bags in his usual spot, the place on the floor where he slept as a child. Arthur places his things down beside Merlin’s. Merlin is thankful that he’s learned better manners than when he stayed with Gwen and took her bed, as Gwen complained to Merlin later.</p><p>“I hope it’s not too much trouble, me being here,” Arthur says.</p><p>“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Merlin’s mother replies. “I’m glad you’re here to keep Merlin company.”</p><p>The way she says it seems innocent enough, but Merlin knows his mother better than that. He sends her a pointed look, to which she merely smiles.</p><p>It’s about supper time, so Merlin offers to help his mother cook a meal since he sprung this surprise on her. Arthur, meanwhile, stands slack-jawed behind them, hovering and unsure what to do. Merlin’s mother, though, just puts him to work, despite him being a King. She’s a mother first, Merlin knows that for sure. Plus, it’s amusing to see Arthur stare at a carrot like some foreign object he’s never seen before.</p><p>“You don’t know how to cut a carrot?” Merlin asks behind snickers while is mother is occupied.</p><p>“Stop laughing and help me!” Arthur growls, getting frustrated as Merlin continues laughing. He looks so helpless standing there in front of the carrot that Merlin decides to help him in the end.</p><p>Standing just behind Arthur, he reaches around him with one arm, taking the knife in one hand and carrot in the other.</p><p>“You need to peel it first,” Merlin explains, stroking the blade along the outer edges of the carrot, “Not too much, though, just enough to take the skin off.”</p><p>Arthur watches with rapt attention, making Merlin suddenly aware of how close they are. Merlin’s mouth is right behind Arthur’s ear, his hair ruffling with every puff of Merlin’s breath. Merlin’s heart beats loud in his ears. Arthur’s eyes seem especially blue up close.</p><p>Merlin drops the carrot and knife back on the counter abruptly, causing Arthur to turn and look at him.</p><p>“And that’s it, really,” Merlin babbles, “Then, you just cut straight down, starting at the thickest part to make little circles. Holler if you need me.”</p><p>He slips out the backdoor, making up some excuse of gathering more herbs. Once he’s outside, he lets out the breath he was unaware he’d been holding. His berates himself until his heart finally calms down, and his thoughts are no longer fixated on Arthur.</p><p>Figuring he shouldn’t come back in emptyhanded, Merlin walks a few paces outside to the garden, kneeling in the dirt and soil and begins picking.</p><p>The backdoor opens again a few seconds later, revealing his mother. Merlin smiles wearily at her, continuing his idle herb picking.</p><p>“Did Arthur finishing cutting the carrot?” Merlin asks her curiously.</p><p>“He’s still working on it,” his mother chuckles in bemusement.</p><p>Merlin cracks a smile at the thought of Arthur struggling over the carrot even more.</p><p>“Are you okay?” she prods, hands on her hips. “And don’t even think about lying to your mother.”</p><p>“Everything’s been a lot,” Merlin admits, standing up and brushing the dirt off his trousers. “I feel the weight of my supposed destiny more each day.”</p><p>“You haven’t told him, have you?”</p><p>“No, I can’t, not now. But it fills me with guilt, lying to him like this,” Merlin says, glancing back inside to where Arthur is cocking his head at the carrot as he turns it around.</p><p>“Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I wish you didn’t have to deal with this burden. Someday, it will all be okay. I have hope in you and Arthur.”</p><p>Merlin sniffles, holding back tears. “I love you.”</p><p>“I love you, too. I love you so much.”</p><p>They hug, more intimate than before. A few tears are shed on both their ends, but Merlin knows they can’t leave Arthur alone for too long. They pull back, Merlin still with a handful of herbs.</p><p>“We better go help him out,” Merlin laughs wetly.</p><p>“Yes, we better,” she agrees. “I worry that somehow, he’ll burn down my kitchen trying to chop up that carrot.”</p><hr/><p>Despite the rocky start, dinner ends up being delicious. Even Arthur seems to thoroughly enjoy his meal without complaint, gobbling it down quickly. The rest of the night is spent catching his mother up on everything in Camelot. In return, she tells them about some of the latest news and gossip of Ealdor. Not as much happens in small villages like these, but when they do, there’s always much more drama.</p><p>They retire to bed early that night, all exhausted from the busy day. Merlin sets up their bedrolls, placing them next to each other instead of head to toe like before. If Arthur notices, he doesn’t comment.</p><p>With his mother quick to sleep, it’s just him and Arthur left with only the light of a few candles on the floor beside them.</p><p>“I don’t know why you had to wear your chainmail,” Merlin complains as he struggles to get it off in the dark.</p><p>“Because, <em> Mer </em>lin, I’m a knight, and as a knight, you never know when you or someone else may be attacked.”</p><p>“Well, you probably shouldn’t wear that tomorrow,” Merlin advises. “It will draw too much attention to you, and you’ll get way too hot working on the fields in it.”</p><p>“Working in the fields?” Arthur frowns.</p><p>“Of course. You didn’t just expect to laze about while we peasants did all the work, did you?”</p><p>“I’m not a servant, Merlin.”</p><p>“Well, neither was I, at first, until I was assigned to you and your big head. Besides, you’re in Ealdor now, not Camelot.”</p><p>Arthur folds his arms across his chest. “I’m still the King.”</p><p>“Speaking of which,” Merlin continues, “Why did you ask my mother to call you Arthur when you always berate me for not calling you sire?!”</p><p>“Simple, Merlin. One, your mother deserves it much more than you. Two, it’s fun to annoy you.”</p><p>“Dollophead.”</p><p>Arthur flicks at his ear in retaliation. “So what are you supposed to help with, anyway?”</p><p>“It’s harvest time, one of the busiest times of the year,” Merlin explains. “A small village like Ealdor needs all the help they can get from <em> both of us. </em>”</p><p>“Ealdor is still doing fine, right?” Arthur asks suddenly. Merlin knows he’s thinking back to their first visit.</p><p>“As far as I know, yes. Everything has been peaceful around here. Right now, everyone is in high spirits because of Harvest Festival, too.”</p><p>Merlin helps Arthur finish slipping into his night-time clothes before starting to change into his own.</p><p>“Harvest Festival. You mentioned that before. What is it?”</p><p>“It’s a celebration of our new crops. There’s a huge feast, huge for Ealdor at least, and all of the villagers come and contribute something. Then there’s talking and music and dancing all night.”</p><p>Merlin finishes putting on his own night-clothes, then joins Arthur again as he sits down on his bedroll.</p><p>“That sounds fun,” Arthur says.</p><p>Merlin warns, “It’s not anything grand or fancy like in Camelot.”</p><p>“Honestly, I’d rather not deal with anything grand or fancy right now, anyway. Something like this sounds…nicer. More relaxed.”</p><p>“Harvest Festivals are some of my best memories as a child. Will and I would dance for hours and then steal mead to drink in the forest afterward.”</p><p>Arthur stifles a laugh. “I should’ve known you were a troublemaker as a child, as well. Also, I didn’t know you can dance. Now I have something funny to look forward to seeing.”</p><p>“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m a great dancer.”</p><p>“With your clumsiness? You probably trip over your own feet.”</p><p>Merlin giggles with him briefly before they lapse into silence.</p><p>“I’m sorry again, about Will,” Arthur brings up, lying down on his bedroll.</p><p>Merlin mirrors his position on his own bedroll so the two of them are face to face. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”</p><p>“I know. I still feel bad.”</p><p>“I’m sorry about your father.”</p><p>Merlin’s never officially said it, not in words. The wound had been too raw for a long time, and he knew that Arthur got sick of the fake, overplayed condolences sent his way by royals from all over. But now, Merlin feels like it’s the right time to say it. He means it, too, and not just because it’s Merlin’s fault. He also means it because this was Arthur’s <em> father  </em>who died, the man who raised Arthur, the man who Arthur looked up to and strived to impress. Although Merlin may not have liked Uther, he certainly likes Arthur, and seeing Arthur in pain is one of the worst feelings.</p><p>“Thank you, Merlin,” Arthur finally says. “We should get some sleep.”</p><p>“I’ll blow out the candles.”</p><p>Arthur turns on his other side, facing away from Merlin, and closes his eyes. Merlin blows out the last flickering flame, plunging the room into complete darkness. He lies back down, tired from the overwhelming days, and drifts off himself.</p><p>The crow of the roosters along with the bright morning sun seeping through the windows wake them. Well, really, Arthur wakes him when he groans in annoyance, trying to wrap his pillow around his ears.</p><p>“Make that thing shut up,” Arthur orders, half mumbled.</p><p>Beside him, Merlin chuckles, “Arthur, I can’t. It’s just a rooster.”</p><p>“It’s a bloody demon is what it is. Can we cook it for breakfast?”</p><p>Merlin sighs, knowing now that neither of them will be able to get back to sleep. With a huff, Merlin sits and stretches his arms above his head, resulting in a symphony of cracking sounds. Arthur makes a disgusted noise from his spot burrowed under his many thick blankets from which he has yet to budge.</p><p>“Get up, lazy daisy,” Merlin yawns, shoving at Arthur’s back.</p><p>Arthur groans, “It’s the crack of dawn! Nobody’s up this early.”</p><p>“I hate to tell you this Arthur, but in a small village like Ealdor during harvest, the whole village is usually up before this even. I’m sure my mother is already up.”</p><p>“Peasants are <em> insane </em>.”</p><p>“Maybe, but at least we aren’t stuck up prats like somebody I know...”</p><p>That gets Arthur riled up enough to get him moving. As Merlin assumed, his mother is already dressed and up, playing the role of mother and host. Merlin offers to help with breakfast, but his mother won’t have it since they helped with supper last night. Arthur has no qualms about that, digging into his breakfast enthusiastically.</p><p>“Arthur and I would love to help out for preparations for Harvest Festival tomorrow,” Merlin says while they all eat.</p><p>“Good, I’m glad you’d love to help because even if you didn’t, I would have still put you two to work,” his mother replies. “We need pickers and pluckers.”</p><p>“She’s not talking about people trimming your eyebrows, just so you know,” Merlin whispers to Arthur, who sits so close that they’re practically touching.</p><p>“I’m not an idiot like somebody I know…” Arthur mimics Merlin from earlier. Merlin sticks his tongue out at Arthur.</p><p>“You’d think you were both 12 summers again…” Merlin’s mother sighs, but there’s a fond look on her face.</p><p>12 summers old. It feels like so long ago, now. So much has changed since then. The only thing that hasn’t changed is that most days, Merlin feels like no more of an adult than he did then. He has more responsibilities and duties now, obviously, but it doesn’t seem as if he is old enough for them. Briefly, Merlin wonders what Arthur’s childhood was like. Arthur has told him a bit about it, here and there, but there are many gaps still missing that Merlin thinks about. What kind of things did Arthur do when he was younger? What was it like to grow up as a future prince? How often did he get in trouble? Was Uther always such a dick? (Of course, he’d never really ask that last one). Was it lonely, growing up with a destiny that was already chosen for you?</p><p>Merlin already knows the answer to that one.</p><p>They get to work after breakfast. There’s a large field on the edge of the village, full of crops and trees ready to be harvested. Many villagers are already at work, but there’s still much work to be done. Despite Arthur’s complaints about working last night, he doesn’t seem to mind this morning. Merlin might even say he looks at ease. Dressed in a simple, white tunic and trousers, he could almost pass for a farmer (if his clothes weren’t made of such fine silk, and he didn’t turn his nose up at the sight of manure, that is). Merlin can’t help but imagine it, though, as he watches Arthur heft a woven basket over one shoulder. What if Arthur was just a peasant to begin with? A simple farmer, perhaps. Maybe then, things would have been different between them. Maybe Merlin’s destiny could have played out better. Maybe, he wouldn’t have to deal with the immense guilt and pressure building up inside of him from lying to Arthur. But there’s no hope dwelling, because this is here and now, while his thoughts are only a fantasy.</p><p>“Look at all of these vegetables I picked!” Arthur brags, showing Merlin his basket. “I don’t know why it’s taking the others so long.”</p><p>Merlin stifles a laugh, badly hiding a smile behind his hands as he sees that Arthur pulled the entire plant out of the ground, roots and all.</p><p>“What? What is it?” Arthur asks demandingly.</p><p>Merlin merely tugs on his arm, leading him back toward the crops. “I’m going to show you how you actually pick vegetables, dollophead.”</p><p>Arthur’s eyebrows furrow together as he looks down at his basket. Merlin laughs again at his confusion. He leads Arthur back toward the fields, where some of the villagers are giving Arthur and his basket strange looks. Then, he shows Arthur how to actually pick the vegetables, to which Arthur scoffs and claims he knew it all along, but he was just testing Merlin.</p><p>It isn’t until around lunch that they take a break. Arthur is covered from head to toe in soil. He even has some in his golden hair, which Merlin doesn’t understand. His white shirt is probably forever stained unless Merlin magics it clean when he isn’t looking. If it weren’t for his magic, half of Arthur’s blood-stained clothes would have had to been tossed. Really, he’s doing Arthur a favor by secretly using his magic.</p><p>When his mother calls them inside for lunch, both of them are relieved. Merlin, although used to his work as a servant by now, forgot about the back-breaking pain of crop harvesting. Arthur, on the other hand, has plenty of training in combat and fighting, but when it comes to farming, not at all. Merlin has a feeling he’ll be complaining about aching muscles tomorrow.</p><p>Back inside, Arthur swipes the sweat off his face with the back of his hand. Unfortunately, that hand is also covered in a coat of dirt, leaving a smudge across his forehead. Merlin chuckles at him.</p><p>“You just smeared dirt all across your forehead, sire,” Merlin says.</p><p>Arthur panics, trying to wipe it off with his other hand, which is also covered in dirt. Merlin tuts, grabbing a washcloth from the cupboard and wetting it. He then brings it up to Arthur’s face and gently begins wiping it clear of debris. One hand holds the edge of Arthur’s chin, keeping his head steady. Merlin swallows and tries to keep a blank expression. Their eyes meet briefly, and they blink at each other before Merlin pulls away.</p><p>Arthur opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Merlin’s mother comes and sets down some bread and fruits for them. They both thank her quietly, and she goes back outside to attend to something else. They eat their food quietly.</p><p>The remainder of the day is spent doing various chores to prepare for Harvest Festival the next day. They continue to help pick food mostly, although Arthur is recruited to carry crates and baskets. Merlin also helps with cooking. Arthur teases him about being a homemaker, but Merlin reminds Arthur that he couldn’t even cut a carrot without help. They also help set up the town a bit for the celebration tomorrow, although much of that will have to be done the day of. Children of the village make decorations to hang. Funnily, the children adore Arthur, some of them without even knowing he’s the King of Camelot. They constantly beg for his attention, toting him around Ealdor and showing him things. Once it is discovered by all of the children that he’s a King, they pester him even more, this time for stories of his bravery. Arthur appears extremely uncomfortable; Merlin has a feeling he hasn’t had much experience with children. So, he swoops in to rescue Arthur as usual, telling them the tale of one of their many adventures (one of the less violent ones, of course). While he’s telling the story, with Arthur interrupting every so often to correct him for “accuracy”, the children hang onto every word. Afterward, when Merlin has shooed the children away because they have work to do, Arthur smiles and nods at him thankfully.  </p><p>By the time supper rolls around, both boys are exhausted. As Merlin predicted, Arthur is already complaining about sore muscles. Thankfully, the huge medicine bag that Gaius convinced Merlin to bring with him contains a muscle salve to use for later.</p><p>Before that, though, they help Merlin’s mother with supper and eat it like they’re starving. Arthur insists on having a bath afterward, forgetting once again that peasants do not own a huge tub.</p><p>“But how do I bathe?!” Arthur asks incredulously.</p><p>“With a rag and a bucket,” Merlin says. “Have fun.”</p><p>“There’s no way I can get properly clean with that!”</p><p>“I mean, there is another way…” Merlin trails off. “But I don’t know if you’re brave enough.”</p><p>“Brave en—” Arthur begins, “You do know who you’re talking too, right?!”</p><p>Merlin laughs at Arthur taking the obvious bait. He’s too predictable sometimes.</p><p>“Mother, we’re going out! Don’t wait up for us,” Merlin calls out as he tugs Arthur out the door.</p><p>“Wait, are you going to tell me where we’re going?!”</p><p>“Don’t you trust me, Arthur?”</p><p>Arthur glares at him. “Of course I do, idiot.”</p><p>Merlin drops Arthur’s arm with a surprised noise. Out of everything he was expecting Arthur to say, it was not that. Arthur rarely voices any compliments toward Merlin, but saying that he trusts Merlin? Needless to say, Merlin feels honored.</p><p>“Not to mention, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried,” Arthur adds on, trying to lighten the mood again.</p><p>“Well, hurry up, then, or we won’t get there before sunset,” Merlin replies, trying his best to avoid Arthur’s previous comment.</p><p>Arthur trusts him, enough to tell Merlin that he trusts him. And Merlin can’t even tell Arthur about his biggest secret, his stupid magic and destiny. The worst part is, Merlin does trust Arthur, he trusts him with his life. But he still can’t make himself say it. Every time he even thinks about it, thinks about telling Arthur his biggest secret, he clams up. The fear of revealing himself has overtaken Merlin completely. He feels like a coward, and when the truth does finally come out, he won’t blame Arthur for hating him.</p><p>They do arrive before sunset, if only just. It’s a riverbed, nestled in the rocks, with a small, trickling waterfall. Not many people in Ealdor know about this river, or if they do, they tend to stay away because it’s said to be associated with magic. As Merlin knows, even in Ealdor, magic is feared by many. The repercussions for being a sorcerer in Essetir may not be as bad as Camelot, but being a slave isn’t much better. So, when he was growing up, Merlin would often escape to this river, a calm place where he could practice his magic without anyone finding him. Will was the only other whoever came with him to the river. Will never cared that Merlin had magic. He never felt ostracized around Will.</p><p>“A dirty river? You want me to bathe in a dirty river?” Arthur questions.</p><p>“It’s not a dirty river, prat! The water is crystal clear. It’s so clear, that many of the people in Ealdor avoid it because they believe the cleanliness is a result of sorcery.”</p><p>“So, this is an enchanted river?” Arthur asks hesitantly.</p><p>Merlin shakes his head, “I don’t think so. I’ve been here plenty before. I think it’s just a tall tale. It doesn’t…<em> bother </em> you, though, does it?” He holds his breath, waiting for Arthur to answer.</p><p>“It’s just a river,” Arthur decides, looking at it. “Like you said, probably a tall tale. Plus, I think I’d do about anything right now to wash up.”</p><p>Then, without warning, Arthur starts stripping out of his clothes. Merlin bashfully adverts his eyes. Even though he’s already seen Arthur naked as his manservant, it feels different right now.</p><p>“You can look,” Arthur says, “I’m not going skinny dipping in some forest river, for God’s sake!”</p><p>Sure enough, Arthur is still in his trousers, although they’re rolled up past his knees. His shirt is cast aside on a nearby rock along with his boots and some hidden daggers. Arthur goes to step into the water with no hesitation.</p><p>“Wait, Arthur, I should warn you—”</p><p>Arthur shrieks. “It’s bloody freezing in here, Merlin! I know it’s autumn, but my God! Are you trying to give me frostbite?”</p><p>Merlin laughs, “What, your noble self can’t handle cold water instead of warm?”</p><p>“This water isn’t just cold, Merlin, it’s freezing! Let’s see you try!”</p><p>Shrugging, Merlin goes to pull off his tunic, struggling as his arms get caught in it. Arthur laughs at him as he nearly falls on his face. Merlin thinks about chucking one of his boots at Arthur but doesn’t want to risk losing them. Like Arthur, he rolls up his pants, shucks off his boots and socks, then walks into the water with no hesitation. A bite of cold greets him, but it’s familiar. He wades in toward Arthur, who is up to his chest deeper in the water.</p><p>“It isn’t that bad,” Merlin claims, despite his shivering.</p><p>“Your blue lips say different,” Arthur retorts. “But I do have to admit, this is much better than a rag and bucket.”</p><p>“Told ya.”</p><p>Arthur rolls his eyes, then an evil smirk forms on his face. Merlin backs away slightly, but before he can get too far, Arthur sends a tremendous splash toward him, soaking his hair and face with cold water. Merlin splutters, wiping wet hair away from his eyes.</p><p>“Prat! I’ll get you back for that,” Merlin warns, advancing toward him again.</p><p>“I’d like to see you try!”</p><p>Arthur begins swimming away from him, and Merlin chases after him. The river is not very wide, so it’s easy to get close enough to Arthur to splash him right back. And if Merlin secretly uses his magic a bit to chill the water extra before it splashes Arthur, then that’s even better.</p><p>Now, Arthur is soaking along with him, golden hair plastered against his head. He scowls playfully at Merlin before sending an attack of splashes. Merlin laughs, trying to get away and failing.</p><p>“I—I yield! Arthur,” Merlin gasps, “Okay, I yield!”</p><p>Arthur stops his splashing, looking smug. Merlin sighs, leaning back in the water to float. Arthur joins him. Above them is a canopy of forest trees of varying colors, highlighted only by the flickering stars and brightening moon. Crickets chirp along the banks.</p><p>“I used to come out here a lot, with Will,” Merlin tells Arthur out of nowhere. “We would sneak off here to get away from everything. The villagers didn’t like me much, but Will never cared.”</p><p>“Why didn’t they like you?”</p><p>“Because I was different, and they didn’t like that.”</p><p>“I mean, you are pretty strange…” Arthur says, chuckling when Merlin glares at him. “But in a good way.”</p><p>“Thanks, I think?”</p><p>“Do you ever think about moving back to Ealdor?” Arthur asks.</p><p>“Sometimes. It can be hard, being so far from my mother, but Camelot is my home now. I found my purpose there. I’ve made friends. Plus, your royal backside wouldn’t last a day without me.”</p><p>“Ha, ha. Very funny. I’ll have you know, I was perfectly fine before you came along.”</p><p>“But it wasn’t nearly as fun and interesting before, was it?”</p><p>Arthur cracks a smile, “No, certainly not.”</p><p>The breeze picks up suddenly and shivers wrack Merlin’s body.</p><p>“We should get back before you turn completely blue,” Arthur comments, shivering himself.</p><p>For once, Merlin agrees with him. They clamber out of the river. Merlin wishes he had the sense to bring some towels to dry off. At least their shirts and boots are free from the cold water. They get redressed and get ready to head back when Merlin notices something.</p><p>“You don’t have your sword on you.”</p><p>Arthur responds, “Yes, I know. I didn’t think I needed it. I just, I feel safe here. Plus, a sword on my hip would ruin my whole peasant look I have going on, right?”</p><p>“Please, you couldn’t pass as a peasant. You can’t even chop a carrot!”</p><p>“Are you ever going to let that go?”</p><p>Merlin crosses his arms, “No way, sire!”</p><p>Arthur smiles again. Merlin realizes that this is the most he’s seen Arthur smile in a long time. These smiles don’t seem like the ones he puts on to please the court and visiting nobles, either. They look genuine.</p><p>“Race you back,” Arthur challenges suddenly, already beginning to run.</p><p>“Arthur!” Merlin laughs, stumbling after him.</p><p>They arrive back at Merlin’s mother’s house, huffing and puffing. Arthur won, of course, since he had the obvious head start. They head inside quietly, as not to wake his mother. As usual, Merlin helps Arthur prepare for bed. They dry themselves off before getting into their bedclothes. Merlin also rubs the salve into Arthur’s muscles. Arthur is falling asleep at that point, slumping over with his eyes closed. Merlin finishes up quickly, allowing Arthur to get some proper sleep. When Arthur lies down on his bedroll, he immediately falls asleep.</p><p>Merlin, however, doesn’t feel tired. He tries to go to sleep but is left tossing and turning. After a while, he decides it fruitless to stay there. He gets up, careful not to wake Arthur, who is snoring up a storm. Merlin chuckles at the state of the King: burrowed underneath his blanket, curled up, with his half-dry hair splayed every which way.</p><p>As Merlin stands up, he notices a candlelight out the back door. He follows it, cautiously, but soon finds out it’s nothing to fear. It’s only his mother, sitting on a blanket, fingers caressing a lone flower.</p><p>“Mother,” Merlin whispers, trying not to startle her.</p><p>She looks up at him. “Merlin? I thought you were asleep.”</p><p>“Too much on my mind, I suppose. Why are you awake?”</p><p>“Too much on my mind, as well.”</p><p>His mother scoots over, patting the empty spot on the blanket. Merlin sits down, soft soil beneath them. An arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him in close. Merlin glances down at the singular flower. It’s a white daisy. A few whispered words, and suddenly white daisies sprout all around them. His mother gasps in awe.</p><p>“Oh, my sweet boy,” she says. “You’ve grown so much since you first left for Camelot. You’re no longer my little boy who can’t control his magic. You’ve become an amazing young man. I’m so proud.”</p><p>Merlin curls his knees into his chest. “I’m not so sure about that. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, ma.”</p><p>“Everyone makes mistakes, Merlin. It’s what you do to improve that matters.”</p><p>“Sometimes, I just wonder, why me? Why am I burdened with this destiny? It all feels like too much sometimes, like I’m about to be overtaken.”</p><p>“You were chosen for a reason, Merlin, I know you were,” his mother says. “You are the sweetest, most loyal, and most giving person I have ever known. You help people be a better version of themselves, even Arthur.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s still a work in progress,” Merlin mutters.</p><p>“You don’t realize how much people care for you, Merlin, especially Arthur.”</p><p>“I’m just a servant.”</p><p>His mother laughs, “For an all-powerful warlock, you sure can be oblivious. What other King would journey with his servant to visit his mother and do peasant’s work? What other King would put up with mockery and teasing from a servant? Don’t you see, Merlin? Arthur cares, even if he may have a hard time showing it.”</p><p>“He told me today that he trusts me,” Merlin swallows. “And I’m lying to him every day.”</p><p>“You’re scared, and it’s understandable.”</p><p>“But what if he doesn’t see it that way? What if I tell him, and he detests me?”</p><p>His mother tightens her arm around his shoulder. “But what if he doesn’t? Do you really think Arthur would execute you, after everything you’ve been through?”</p><p>“No,” Merlin admits honestly, “but I don’t want to make him choose between his father’s legacy and, well, me. Sorcery killed his father, mother. <em> I </em> killed his father. He should hate me.”</p><p>He’s brought into a proper hug, hand carding through the short curls at the base of his neck. “Merlin, you know that wasn’t your fault. You tried to save him, even though he persecutes magic users. You still chose to help, because that’s how much you care about Arthur. Do not blame yourself.”</p><p>Merlin buries his face into his shoulder. “I missed you, mother. It’s good to be here.”</p><p>“It’s good to have you here. But we should probably head to sleep. Tomorrow will be busy with preparations for the Harvest Festival in the evening. We all have a big day ahead of us.”</p><p>“You’re right,” Merlin says, standing up and stretching. He offers a hand to his mother, who takes it, dragging the blanket up behind her. With one last look at the white daises blossomed around them, they step back inside, where Arthur continues to snore away.</p><p>Merlin bids his mother goodnight before taking his place on his bedroll. Arthur shuffles in his sleep, blissfully unaware of Merlin’s absence. A weight momentarily lifts off Merlin’s chest, and he feels more open than he has in ages thanks to his mother’s talk. She always knows how to make him feel whole again. With that, he nestles under his covers and falls asleep.</p><hr/><p>It’s the night of the Harvest Festival. After a morning of preparations, they can finally celebrate. Merlin likes seeing all of the villagers so happy, as compared to when he last came to Ealdor with Arthur. Adults chat amicably with each other, catching up on the gossip of the town. The children and teenagers swarm in groups. Even the elderly have come out to enjoy the party.</p><p>The center of the village is encased in a small, contained bonfire that lights up everything. Strung together leaves from the children hang across the tops of houses. Long rows of tables have been arranged to hold the bounty. Freshly cooked meals with locally grown ingredients. From apple pie to vegetable stew, it’s a phenomenal feast. Although the dishes aren’t fancy like the ones back in Camelot, they’re full of heart and hard work. A small band of villagers has formed off to the side with handmade instruments. They start playing a familiar, upbeat melody. The instruments are a bit out of tune, and the rhythm a bit off, but it feels more personable. Villagers eat and laugh, some already going to dance around the fire. Merlin’s mother, herself, chats with some of her friends.</p><p>“Get something to eat yet?” A voice asks from behind Merlin.</p><p>Merlin turns to see Arthur carrying what looks like an armful of food, munching on it all the while. “No, and I assume I’m not getting anything since it looks like you took the whole lot. You’re well fed enough in Camelot, sire.”</p><p>“Are you calling me fat, <em> Mer </em>lin?”</p><p>“<em> Well fed </em>.”</p><p>“Hmm. Well, maybe I won’t share any of this with you, after all. Too bad, because these scones are really—”</p><p>Merlin rolls his eyes, snatching up a scone for himself. “Prat.” He gnaws on it, nearly moaning at the delicious, fresh-baked flavor of the scone. He inhales the rest, then reaches for another treat Arthur nabbed from the table.</p><p>“Go get more food,” Arthur instructs, yanking the food back toward himself. “You look like you need it, anyway. You’re all skin and bones.”</p><p>Merlin is too hungry to protest, so he merely swipes a juicy apple from Arthur, takes a large bite, then heads over to get a properly fulfilling meal.</p><p>Merlin’s magic is happy tonight. It thrums beneath his skin to the tune of the beat from the hand drums. The wild beauty of nature teems around him, shown in the abundance of food straight from the soil and the leaves blowing in the wind. Embers from the fire reflect in his eyes, golden like the color of magic. Nearby, the creatures of the forest also rejoice, taking part in the leftovers from their crops as well as the many things to forage in the brush. Merlin breathes in, then out. He feels so alive. It’s moments like these that he thinks he could stay in Ealdor forever.</p><p>Then he sees Arthur. Arthur, whose blonde hair turns gold from the reflection of the fire. Arthur, who watches the villagers with a glee in his eyes. Arthur, who always tries to do the best he possibly can for the people of Camelot. Arthur, whose destiny is intertwined with Merlin’s own, the man that he’s sworn to protect and watch over. It’s more than that, though; it’s always been more than that, at least after the first few weeks in Camelot. Because that’s when Merlin realized that the Prince, the jerk he first met bullying a servant in the marketplace, is just Arthur underneath. And Arthur is extraordinary.</p><p>The dancing picks up more. Some villagers dance traditional peasant dances, while others go off on their own, making up their moves as they go. Children link arms and try to hang on without being pulled apart. Others clap along and cheer. Even his mother is dancing.</p><p>After eating a few bites, Merlin heads back toward Arthur who remains at the edge of the crowd observing.</p><p>“Why are you hanging back in the shadows?” Merlin wonders, gesturing to the party. “It’s a celebration, not a pity party!”</p><p>“I’m not having a pity party,” Arthur says, “but as a King, I have—”</p><p>“Certain duties to uphold, blah blah blah. But you’re in Ealdor now. This might be your only chance to join in on a true village party! More than half the people here are already hammered off of cheap mead.”</p><p>“Oh boy, I can’t believe I’m missing out on drunken escapades with watered down mead,” Arthur deadpans.</p><p>Merlin gets an idea that could backfire terribly. “You said you wanted to see me dance, right?”</p><p>“If by dance, you mean trip over your own feet and others’ feet, then yes.”</p><p>Merlin grins, gripping Arthur’s upper arm to tug him toward the center of the gathering. Arthur allows himself to be pulled.</p><p>“Wha—<em> Mer </em>lin, what are you doing?!” Arthur hisses.</p><p>“Well, I can’t dance alone, now can I?” Merlin teases, letting go of Arthur’s arm to put his hand out. “Come on then. I know you can dance. After all, you are the King, as you always remind me, <em> sire </em>.”</p><p>Arthur gapes at him but doesn’t immediately withdraw or runaway, so Merlin counts it as a win. Frozen in place, Merlin is forced to drag Arthur closer to the fire, hands joined together. Then, Merlin is wrapping a free arm around Arthur’s neck and swaying them much too fast to the music.</p><p>“Merlin, this is <strong> not </strong> how you dance, you imbecile!”</p><p>Merlin laughs, swinging Arthur in ridiculous ways, stumbling around and accidentally stepping on Arthur’s foot a few times. Arthur complains, but he has a smile on his face. Merlin attempts to twirl Arthur, but it only results in them stumbling more. The whole village is certainly staring now, but neither of them cares. They land together on the dirt in a heap as they giggle. For just a moment, with Arthur and him side by side, elbows and legs tangled together, Merlin thinks about inching forward to close the gap between their mouths. But just as the moment starts, it ends. Arthur clears his throat, nudging Merlin off of him. They both clamber up, the rest of the party still going on around them. Arthur takes a step back which stings Merlin more than he thought it would. If that isn’t confirmation that Arthur doesn’t feel the same way, he doesn’t know what it is.</p><p>As if noticing Merlin’s sudden disappointment, Arthur offers, “This Festival isn’t half bad. Why haven’t you told me about it, before? You know I would have let you go.”</p><p>Merlin shrugs, “I don’t know, sire. I guess I didn’t think you’d care.”</p><p>Arthur purses his lips. One foot poises out in front of him, but he doesn’t move. “Just because you’re my manservant, Merlin, doesn’t mean I don’t care. I care about all my subjects.”</p><p>“Yeah. I know.”</p><p>“—<em> But </em>,” Arthur continues, “I care even more about my friends. Like you.”</p><p>“So you admit it, then? We’re friends?” Merlin asks, a little bit smug.</p><p>“As much as it pains me to admit,” Arthur replies. “Don’t even <strong> <em> think </em> </strong> of telling anyone else, though, or I’ll put you in the stocks.”</p><p>A smile plays on Merlin’s lips. “Yes, sire.”</p><p>They don’t dance anymore that night, but they do partake in the mead, as per Arthur’s request. They only have a tankard each, enough to make them feel lighter. Neither is much for heavy drinking (despite Merlin’s ridiculous reputation that Gaius has decided to invent for him). Merlin still wonders what would have happened if he had just leaned in, but he can’t dwell on it. Being friends with Arthur will have to be good enough.</p><p>The party goes on far into the night, but Merlin and Arthur decide to retire early. They clean up around his mother’s house, a thank you for letting them stay there. They plan to head back to Camelot at first light tomorrow.</p><p>“You know, I wouldn’t begrudge you if you wished to stay, truly,” Arthur promises as they get ready for bed. “You appeared so happy here, happier than you have been the last year.”</p><p>“And I already told you, my home is in Camelot. That hasn’t changed,” Merlin then pauses, contemplating Arthur’s last statement. “Why do you say that? That I haven’t been happy recently?”</p><p>“After spending enough time around you, I know you well enough to spot when something’s off. You haven’t been your usual chipper self. You smile less. You don’t ramble as much. You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but I miss the idiot who talks my ear off.”</p><p>Merlin is oddly touched. While he knows that they’ve spent much time together, he never knew that Arthur watched what he did, learned his mannerisms. He’s certainly learned Arthur’s ticks and expressions, how to tell what kind of mood he’s in, or what he wants by just a few face movements and hand gestures; however, he didn’t expect Arthur to learn the same about him.</p><p>“I can try to get started right now if you like,” Merlin begins. “You know, there are plenty of lovely village women I could set you up with. Ms. Gale, for example, seemed particularly taken with you—”</p><p>Arthur chokes, “Is that the old woman who kept offering to hand feed me?!”</p><p>“She’s quite thoughtful, isn’t she? I think you two would be the perfect match.”</p><p>“Okay, okay! I regret this already. Go back to being your sulky self,” Arthur teases, nudging at his shoulder.</p><p>“It’s much too late for that, sire!”</p><p>Arthur snorts.</p><p>Merlin finishes dressing Arthur for bed, and then he changes himself. Outside, the music continues, and the light from the bonfire flickers in the window. Despite this, they both find themselves falling asleep fast, the scent of mead still lingering in their shared airspace.</p><hr/><p>The next morning is full of tearful goodbyes. Merlin squeezes his mother into a tight hug multiple times, eyes watering as he tries to remember this feeling. Arthur stands beside him, his hands gripping their horse’s reigns.</p><p>“Be safe, my love,” his mother whispers. “Take care of yourself. Give Gaius my regards.”</p><p>“I will, mother,” Merlin promises, giving her one last squeeze before pulling away.</p><p>Arthur then steps forward, passing the reigns to Merlin. If he notices Merlin’s glassy eyes, then he doesn’t say anything.</p><p>Merlin’s mother smiles at Arthur. Before either of the boys can comprehend it, Hunith gathers Arthur into a loving hug. Arthur stiffens but doesn’t pull away. After a brief hesitation, he carefully puts his arm’s around her waist, patting her back awkwardly. Merlin snickers, but also can’t help but think maybe Arthur hasn’t had many hugs.</p><p>“Take care, Arthur,” she tells him. “I have faith in you.” She releases him from her grasp. And if Arthur looks a bit teary-eyed, as well, Merlin keeps it to himself.</p><p>With one last smile, the two of them mount their horses.</p><p>Before they take the first bend away from Ealdor, Merlin casts once last look at the small village. Arthur slows his horse, reaching over to pat Merlin’s shoulder. And for once, Merlin feels like everything might turn out okay.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>